


Out In The Real World

by Merkwerkee



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: some light magical violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 19:39:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19383406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkwerkee/pseuds/Merkwerkee
Summary: I started playing Wizards Unite the day after it first came out and I gotta say, I'm quite enjoying it. That being said, I've also seen some absolutely hilarious interactions between Foundables and Confoundables and have started writing them up (with some creative license, of course)





	1. Newt Scamander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Very-Bad Day

Newt was in a great deal of pain.

Granted, this wasn't that unusual of a circumstance as the creatures he dealt with routinely bit, screeched at, vomited acid on, and inflicted other minor injuries on him in the normal course of the day. He didn't blame them for it, of course, and had gotten quite proficient at treating a variety of magical and nonmagical injuries over the course of his career as a Magizoologist.

It wasn't even unusual for the fact that it was a human causing him pain; Newt had pissed off a number of magical creature smugglers and world government officials over the years as he had thrown himself into saving as many magical creatures as he could. He'd been tortured, beaten, drugged, imprisoned, and had various other offences committed upon him during his travels and he could deal with that. The fact that the person currently binding him was dressed like the executioners from the incident at MACUSA was concerning, especially because she'd slapped the wand out of his hand and kicked it behind her.

No, what made these circumstances unusual and worrisome were the twin facts that his suitcase was nowhere to be seen, and that standing nearby was another witch wearing some sort of muggle clothing with a determined look on her face.

He covertly tried to wave her away - he could escape MACUSA again, if he had to - but she ignored him, instead shouting what sounded like a Knockback jinx while waving her wand wildly. The MACUSA worker whirled and smashed the clumsy jinx away with a contemptuous look before spinning back and getting a hold on him once more.

The pain of the executioner's spell was all the more acute for the brief relief from it, and Newt couldn't help crying out. The unfamiliar witch's face set into hard lines, and she yanked a potion out of her bag. It was an unfamiliar deep blue concoction, and the girl swigged it with a pinched face; probably very bitter. She smashed the empty bottle on the ground and brought her wand up with a determined expression. He knew what was coming next, and readied himself as best he could to make a dive for his wand.

"FLIPENDO!" This time the witch shouted, and made the gesture nearly perfectly - if somewhat more aggressively than her first cast. Caught unprepared, the MACUSA worker went flying without a sound, which Newt found odd. Still, now was his chance and he took full advantage of it by diving into a forward roll that brought him back into an upright position with his wand at the ready; he'd learned the trick in the Great War and some things stuck with you no matter how long you'd been back. Plus, of course, that it was so very useful against smugglers and their ilk....

He looked around with great confusion; the MACUSA worker had disappeared completely. He hadn't heard the tell-tale CRACK! of Disapparation, so something else had to be going on here. He turned to make an inquiry of the young witch who'd driven the executioner off him when he felt a jerk behind his navel and the world dissolved into a whirl of colors and sounds which didn't make sense.

When the world returned to normal, he was sitting on the floor of his brother's office with his brother looking at him somewhat sorrowfully from his desk.

"Theseus? What's going on? Where's my suitcase, why did MACUSA kidnap me?" Newt demanded as he stood up and brushed himself off. Theseus remained quiet for a long moment before standing up and walking around his desk to put his arm around Newt's shoulder. Newt's stomach sank like a stone; his brother knew how he felt about such physical contact; for him to do it anyway meant something Very Bad had happened.

"Newt, I have some bad news. Something..... _calamitous_ has occurred..."


	2. Moody's Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Very-Bad Day

Alastor Moody was _not_ a man to be messed with.

That fact was literally as plain as the nose on his face; he'd lost a chunk of it years ago to a particularly nasty Cutting Curse. That, and the false eye, false leg, and generous helping of scars in general added up to a lifetime of experience hunting down dark wizards who had broken the law.He'd lived through two Wizarding Wars, and it showed in every step he took.

Which made the current situation all the more vexing. Some damned fool - Constance thought it was Grim Fawley, but Moody wasn't nearly so sure - had cast a spell too big for them and now everything had gone to shit. Magical objects, creatures, plants, documents, and - most importantly - _people_ were being taken out of their lives and thrown willy-nilly out into the Muggle world. All the magical governments were in a shambles trying to get personnel scrambled to contain the breaches in the Statute of Secrecy. It'd gotten to the point where they were handing badges out to anyone even remotely interested, and Moody himself had been re-instated to the Ministry to help deal with the crisis.

Which lead to his current predicament; whatever damn fool criteria the spell was using to choose its targets, it had somehow picked him up and dumped him right in the middle of a Muggle office facing off against something that looked human - if you weren't looking carefully enough. Moody didn't even need his magical eye to tell him that; the simulacra hadn't said a single word and there was no spark of intelligence behind its glassy eyes. No fear either, not even when he had it by wand-point.

Still, he couldn't kill it - no target of the Confoundable spell was able to escape on its own, they were merely whisked along from location to location until someone else rescued them. A large part in why the Ministry had been so desperate to recruit anybody and everybody who could stand up, see lightning, hear thunder, and wave a wand. They'd get a badge and a pamphlet about the most common kinds of Confoundables and the spells needed to counter them before being kicked out on their asses and told to go patrol the streets.

Which was why it was only a small relief to see a witch in Muggle plainclothes creeping up behind the Confoundable. Moody wasn't particularly keen on ending up on the wrong side of a misfired Incendio or other such rot. Fortunately, it seemed this witch had better sense than most and was stopping just beyond hearing range to chug a light blue potion. He knew it by sight; regular Existulmo potions were part of the extended kit offered by the Ministry to those witches and wizards who had proved they knew one end of a wand from another.

"Ebublio!"

Moody watched in satisfaction as the simulacra was trapped in a large bubble; it'd've been even more satisfying to watch the thing burn, of course, but the young witch had shown remarkable sense in not trying that very destructive spell in a hostage situation - especially one in which Moody was the hostage.

With a grunt, he holstered his wand in its underarm sheath and turned to offer his hand to the witch, maybe give her some points on which she could improve, before he felt a jerk like a portkey behind his navel and the world dissolved into windy chaos around him.


End file.
